


lycoris:epilogue

by pseudocitrus



Series: lycoris [2]
Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M, Smut, ageswap au, arikane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is unusual situation. There’s no way that this could possibly end well. Not between a ghoul with one kakugan, and a —</p>
            </blockquote>





	lycoris:epilogue

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [彼岸花：终曲](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580041) by [Lucyair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucyair/pseuds/Lucyair)



> the arima pov epilogue of an arikane au, which is based on some headcanons with [neimana](http://neimana.tumblr.com) :’)
> 
> hope you’re having a good day!!

There’s a high probability that he should be thinking more about it. Or thinking about it more clearly, at least.

The reflection usually starts ambitiously enough.

_This is unusual situation. There’s no way that this could possibly end well._

_Not between a ghoul with one kakugan, and a_ —

“Monster,” the ghoul in front of him spits, and Arima blinks out of his thoughts. He had gone under, for a little bit, under the wash of the usual pleads and insults. The ghoul’s right eye is nothing but a knitted scar, and it had reminded him, a little.

“You think that I’m the one that’s a beast,” the ghoul continues, in a snarl, at Arima’s silence. “But it’s you, Reaper. You’re less human than me. We all know you’re nothing but the CCG’s dog, and once your usefulness is outlived, you—”

The words splutter out as Arima dispatches of it.

:::

It’s hardly a new tirade.

But, somehow…that single dark eye, rolling up at him…stays longer in his mind than usual.

_This,_ he tries again, _is an unusual situation_.

He fills out his report and submits it, as well as a request for another assignment.

“It says here you still have one,” the person at the counter says.

“There hasn’t been progress on it,” Arima informs them. “I have clearance to pursue other assignments in the meantime.”

He’s already completed two assignments since the order was instated. By now, it should be old news. Instead, the muttering increases.

Hallways. Conference rooms, just before he enters. The open windows of certain offices as he eats soup from a vending machine on a bench outside, glasses fogging in the steam.

“ _He just turned in another assignment.”_

_“What? What number is this now? The third, in less than a month?”_

_“In less than three weeks.”_

Dry laughter, huffs, snorts.

_“Is he really human?”_

_“Who knows. It’s just the unfairness of god.”_

Usually, it ends there.

_“But,”_ a voice continues, _“there’s that other assignment that he can’t complete, right? Maybe that will be the ghoul to finally take him down.”_

:::

He’s been away for a while. _Unfairness of god_ or not, some things still require his full attention. Kaneki texted him once, a single _How are you?_ that Arima had forgotten and let hang for two days.

_Busy_ , he replies, finally. _How are you?_

He starts to put his phone away, but it’s only halfway in his pocket when it buzzes.

_I’m doing well. Thank you. I hope you’re taking care of yourself_.

There’s further indication that Kaneki is still writing, and Arima waits. But, after a while, the bubble fades, and doesn’t come back. He considers, and then poses his fingers over the keyboard.

_Are you busy?_ Arima asks.

The response comes so quickly that Arima wonders if Kaneki already had it prepared.

_I’m not busy! If you’d like to do something later today, please let me know_.

:::

The reflection usually starts ambitiously enough.

This is an unusual situation, but nothing serious. He doesn’t even know what to call it other than _an unusual situation_ , and maybe it doesn’t need any other label. Kaneki is someone his own age, a friend with whom he shares a variety of interests. From the very beginning it had been pleasant to talk with him about books in that ghoul cafe, and it’s still pleasant to talk to him about it now. Even if their conversations are usually in his apartment, and Kaneki’s quoting from various novels is distorted and broken up by gasping and poorly-suppressed moans.

“Hello, Kaneki-san,” Arima says, when Kaneki opens the door, and Kaneki smiles at him, pleased.

“Hi, Arima-kun. It’s — it’s really nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Arima tells him, and Kaneki ushers him inside.

The apartment smells good already, with food, which Kaneki is ladling and setting out onto a table for him. A stew, fresh. Kaneki has been cooking more recently, which is a good idea, frankly; the kitchen, when Arima had first entered, had had a layer of dust that not even a bureau investigator could ignore.

Arima sits, and surveys the apartment. This is an unusual situation, but he has grown fond of being here. It’s cozy, lived-in. Even when Arima is away, it’s kind of pleasant to imagine Kaneki calmly living here. If Arima’s own life were different, this is exactly the kind of space he’d like to occupy.

“Itadakimasu,” he says, and Kaneki smiles at him.

“Itadakimasu.”

:::

He tells himself that, in this kind of situation, it should be Kaneki that he’s worrying about. Kaneki is the hunted one, the unusual one-eyed being. Sometimes he hears whispers of groups searching for him. Kaneki is getting better at fighting, but isn’t even remotely near Arima’s level.

Arima eats, replying to Kaneki’s questions between bites. What was he busy with, what was he reading?

Nothing much. Same as last time.

“When I’m this busy, I rarely read,” Arima tells him, and Kaneki says, “Ah, I see.”

Kaneki swallows, and then, after a moment, speaks again. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” Arima says. “Why?”

“Um…well…no reason, I guess.”

Kaneki is fidgeting. He picks up his empty mug and tries to drink from it, for the third time. Arima finishes and when he thanks Kaneki for the meal, Kaneki smiles and reaches to clean up, and before he can grab anything, Arima grabs his wrist.

One moment’s hesitation. Then Kaneki lets Arima guide him closer, and opens his mouth, and Arima rests his hands on Kaneki’s lower back to feel him shiver as they kiss. The thing Kaneki wants from him — Arima’s “duty” whenever he comes to visit — is something he can execute perfectly.

But — on the bed, when he moves on top of him — Kaneki whispers. “Wait.” Arima blinks and allows Kaneki to shift around, maneuver so that Arima is beneath him. Once there, Kaneki begins kissing him, so softly that every contact tickles. He removes Arima’s clothing piece by piece as he continues, and Arima finds himself making a sigh and leaning as Kaneki kisses him all the way down his belly, and then unbuckles his belt.

His hands pose over Arima’s growing erection; then he frees it, and strokes it once, and takes it into his mouth. His tongue swathes it gently at first, and then eagerly. Arima breathes deeply as Kaneki licks him harder, as his throat squeezes. Saliva is dripping and gleaming all down Arima’s length when Kaneki withdraws. Arima’s cock emits a bead of precum, and Kaneki laps it up with the broad velvet of his tongue, and does the same with the next droplet.

“Does it feel good?” Kaneki asks abruptly, looking up. His face is flushed; he licks his lips.

“Y-yes,” Arima replies, and Kaneki smiles, and Arima feels his face warm, in a way that he can’t quite remember it doing before.

Does Kaneki…really…care if he is happy?

“I’ll handle it,” Kaneki tells him. He undresses, lubricates, straddles Arima again and then eases him inside, gently, easily. Arima’s breath staggers and he resists the urge to thrust up as Kaneki begins to move on his own, his left eye slowly turning crimson, and then inking. It’s been a while, and — Kaneki’s heat and tightness, closing around him, massaging him — Kaneki’s relentless kisses, and caressing fingers — he keeps to a steady, slow pace the entire time, and still Arima climaxes with a noise as strangled as if they’d been going roughly. Kaneki rocks himself on Arima’s lingering hardness and comes soon after, legs trembling, arms wrapped and his semen smearing between the two of them.

They breathe together, a little. Then they extricate, and clean up. As Kaneki retrieves his pants, Arima lies back on Kaneki’s bed, trying to catch his breath.

Though he did nothing, he feels…exhausted. Too exhausted to stop himself from suddenly saying, “Kaneki…what am I, to you?”

_Monster? Investigator? Reaper?_

It’s a question Arima regrets almost immediately. There are only so many possible answers; Arima could probably just figure it out himself with a little more thought.

But for some reason, Kaneki misses when buttoning up his shirt. He stammers.

“W-well, um, I don’t know…” He stares at the far wall. “I mean, I enjoy being with you. That is, I sort of like you a lot, so…so, I mean…I don’t know. Whatever you want to be is, um. Fine with me.”

When Arima doesn’t respond, Kaneki looks over apprehensively, only to see Arima cupping his hand over his face. His…his cheeks…his mouth. Hurt.

“What’s the matter?” Kaneki asks, and Arima coughs, and shakes his head. When he trusts himself to put his hand down, he still stays looking down at the sheets.

“Nothing.” He rubs his mouth with the back of his hand, but still can’t quite smother the unusual, broad smile from it. “Nothing.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
